


Second Chances

by dandelionsandroses



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsandroses/pseuds/dandelionsandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Katniss got back the rescued Peeta from the Capitol, she only received a fragmented mess of who Peeta really was. She wished for nothing more than to have the old Peeta back again. Follow Katniss as she gets unexplainably transported back to the train at the end of Book One, for a shot at a second chance to do it all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is a story that has been in my head for a while and I have been really looking forward to writing it. Thanks for reading! The parts written by Suzanne Collins are italicized.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Hunger Games universe. This is just something fun I enjoy participating in.**

_Snow has stolen him from me, twisted him beyond recognition, and made me a present of him. Boggs, who came to 2 when I did, told me that even with all the plotting, it was a little too easy to rescue Peeta. He believes if 13 hadn't made the effort, Peeta would've been delivered to me anyway. Dropped off in an actively warring district or perhaps 13 itself. Tied up with ribbons and tagged with my name. Programmed to murder me. It's only now that he's been corrupted that I can fully appreciate the real Peeta. Even more than I would've if he'd died. The kindness, the steadiness, the warmth that had an unexpected heat behind it. Outside of Prim, my mother, and Gale, how many people in the world love me unconditionally? I think in my case, the answer may now be none. Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone._

What I would give to be once again back in the safe closure of his arms. To have him love me again, so unconditionally, in a way that nobody could ever love me again. But there was no point in wishing over something I could never have. No matter how much I yearn, my chance is gone. All that's left is my promise to kill Snow. It's that promise that allow's me a night's sleep.

* * *

The oddest sensation greets me when I awake. I feel my feet in an upright position, and as I run my hands outward I no longer see the scars that should be there. It's unsettling. When I hear that voice, Peeta's voice, unmistakable I realize I must be dreaming.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

It's the same words that he spoke to me years ago, and when I look out I see him. Peeta Mellark. In all of his healthy beauty, no bags, no scars, only the slight limp from his prosthetic cause to worry. It feels so real, that I almost question if it is a dream. I can distinctively feel the tall grass gently swaying across my bare legs, I can hear the soft rumble of the nearby train, and most importantly when I look out I see Peeta in distinction.

Is it possible? Could this not be a dream? I shake my head at the silly thoughts.

"Well, Katniss. Don't just stand there and stare at me. I deserve an answer."

"I-," I'm broken off as a fat bug lands on me. The feeling is so real, so awake, that it shakes me from my confusion. Whatever state I am in, whatever dream or twisted reality I have ended up in, I can at least experience Peeta to some degree until this turns into a nightmare. All of the good dreams turn into nightmares when I spend my nights alone in the bunk. With no arms to surround me, the nightmares have found new roots with the loss of Peeta and the Quarter Quell. I handed up like him, with most of my current nightmares are focused around losing Peeta again.

I suddenly feel the urge to take advantage of this situation's feeling of reality and as Peeta begins to speak I cut him off by enwrapping my arms around his body. It makes him falter a bit and we both fall back onto the soft grasses below us. I push myself on top of him and enclose my lips around his. The warm desire bubbling in my body reminds me of everything I have missed. I keep my lips on his, even though he fails to reciprocate, pushing my tongue into his mouth and only coming up for a gasp of air. I could make Peeta happy. I could give him what he wanted, even if it was only in this faltered state of reality.

He looks up at me with a sigh, "Katniss. Please don't toy with me like this. Don't kiss me if you don't mean it."

I stare into the blue orbs of his eye, the varying shades reminding in their perfect detail that this is the Peeta Mellark that I knew. Not the one that came back from the Capitol. Not even the one I went into the Quarter Quell with, just pure unadulterated Peeta. Innocent. Sweet. No sugar in his tea goodness. I gently trace the side of his face with my index finger, taking in the soft perfection of his skin before I say what I wish I could say in real life.

"You are," I choke out, "You are one of the most kind people I know. I have no idea why you love me, and I know that I could live a thousand lifetimes and never will I ever  **deserve** you. I want nothing more in this world, than to spend the rest of my life in this moment," I grip his shirt and ball it up in my hands before speaking words that I had never spoken to him before, "I love you Peeta Mellark."

**Author's Note: Yes, I know this chapter was short, but I wanted to get my words out on paper and see what you thought. If there are any errors, I wrote this illegally in class in about ten minutes. So it's probably going to be a bit bad. Other than that, I'm looking for a beta and further chapters will be around 4,000 words.**

**FYI - I just set up a tumblr for my fanfiction work (starveinsafety.tumblr.com) where you can ask questions and I will post previews.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> =

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or worlds presented in this story. All characters/settings belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins and her publishers. Nothing in the Hunger Games Trilogy is mine:) Obviously...**

**Merry Christmas and a thank you to eatsnightlockforbreakfast!**

Dream Peeta, or maybe I should just refer to him as Peeta, presses against me, his hot warm breath brushing against my skin. His eyes are cast with an uncertain shadow, wondering if what I have just said is real. Wondering if it is possible for me to be here like this with him. He lifts me up gently by the waist, his hands wrinkling the crisp fabric of my dress, and looks into my dull grey eyes with his bright blue ones. I force myself to resist the ever-present urge to just squeeze him as hard as I can.

"Don't say that to me if you don't mean it," he says brushing his thumb against the smooth skin that runs along my cheeks. His hands are surprisingly soft, different than what they will become, and it phases me for a moment. Then I remember that both of us were recently touched up by the capitol. I wonder if I still have my scars.

Oh, Peeta. Even here I have managed to make him doubtful of my feelings. How is it that no matter what universe I am in, I hurt Peeta? It's the one thing I'm consistently good at.

"Hey," I push his golden locks back, run my hands through his hair and straddle him, pressing my body against him in an attempt to be physically close. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you." I cling onto the bottom of his shirt, and press my lips to his to reinforce my point. My tongue slips into his mouth. I'm desperate to be as together with him as physically possible. I need to take advantage of this for as long as I can. When we finally come up for air he looks at me, his face full of childish delight.

"I love you too, Katniss. I've loved you for so long," he says to me, his body pushing against mine.

"We should," I look down at our frenzied state, "We should probably get back now. If Effie walked in on us like this..." Effie. I hadn't thought about her yet. If this world was like it had been for me the first time, if this dream or alternate reality was the same I would be seeing Effie again. As annoying as I found her, it brings a slight smile to my lips.

Peeta removes himself from my body, standing up before grabbing me by the wrist and hoisting me up along with him. Slipping his fingers into mine, he smiles, "Hey, what are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing," I say and I bite my lip in order to resist just pouncing on his blue eyed, golden haired self. I couldn't spend my entire time here just kissing him, or could I? If this was temporary, and I wasn't quite willing to think of the consequences of this being permanent, couldn't I just kiss him, sleep with him even, all I wanted? Couldn't I savor in making this Peeta happy and giving him everything I wished I had given when I had the chance?

I sigh and I grasp his other hand, looking into his deep blue eyes I take him into a choking hug.

"Peeta, you have no idea," I mutter into his chest, "you have no idea how much I, how much I want to give you. I can't help myself around you. You know that?"

He smiles at me in that innocent Peeta way, "I think I have a bit of an idea what that feels like."

I rest my head on his shoulder, keeping my hand in his as we walk up the stairs to the train. The train is exactly like I remember it, every detail remains the same to that moment. Cold sleek interiors, fresh roses, and steel doors greet me like they did before. It frightens me how real it all feels, and I worry that I may be taken from this world too soon. I have to take advantage of the situation while it lasts.

"Peeta," I say motioning towards the door that leads to the little viewing room at the end of the train, "Why don't we go back there. There's something I want to do."

I slam the door behind him, pushing him against the sleek metal and pinning him down with my elbows I drop to my knees.

"Ka-Katniss, what are you doing?"

I don't know what I'm doing, honestly. I've never done it before, though I get the general premise. I just want to make him happy.

"I don't know, Peeta. Just let me do it, okay?" I slip my hands to his belt buckle.

He places his hands on mine, stopping me, "Katniss, please don't," he falters, his eyes pleading with me, "I don't want it to be here, not like this. I want you. I really do, you know that. I just don't want it to be here. In their train. I want to wait for it to be special."

It's just like Peeta, to want it to be special. He's so impossibly good in every way. Never asking for more, forgiving me for playing with his emotions, holding me at night on the tour and being nothing but a gentleman. He deserved to have what he wanted. He deserved to get a girl who give him a toasting and a baby. Instead he got lies and a fake pregnancy.

I should have given him what he wanted when I had the chance. Even though a baby and a real wedding weren't possible, at least I should have given sex. That was something I could have provided him with.

Now it's just awkward, kneeling on the floor with him pinned against the door, so I quickly stand up and face him.

"It didn't have to be sex or anything. We could have just, you know." I turn as a red as a beet as I shove my hands into the too small decorative pockets.

It's innocent enough, I guess. We're both old enough and this probably isn't even real. Most boys would go along with it when it was offered to them.

"I know," he says grasping my hands and tracing light circles against the skin of my palms, "I know what you mean. I just want this to be different. We can wait a little while. I want both of us to be ready for everything when it happens, okay?" his bright blue eyes question me.

I sigh. I only wanted to make him happy and I can't even do this right. Of course he would want to wait. It's Peeta.

"Okay," I say cautiously, "If you ever want to, when you want to, we can um... you know."

He laughs and removes his hands from mine, grasping me at the waist and delicately lifting me from the floor in a fit of glee.

"Alright, Katniss. Alright. Why don't we head back and meet up with Haymitch and Effie. We've been gone for quite a while and we will be arriving soon."

* * *

He grabs my hand and leads me through the assortment of different train cars. Home. We will be arriving home soon. I wonder if this dream world will stay the same when we get home. Will it last that long? Will I wake up the next morning back in District 13? If I get to District 12 in this world will we find the charred remains of my people and the remnants of the District or will everything be like it was the first time I lived this. Does it mean that I will get to see all of the people from the Seam who died? Peeta's family? My head spins in a million different directions as I try to comprehend what is going on. It's lasted longer than I could have imagined and it still feels just as real as it did the first time.

It's probably best that I don't overthink this. I should try to enjoy it while it lasts. I have to enjoy Peeta while I can. I have to give him something, anything, and make him happy before I slip back into the world where Peeta sees me like I really am.

When we enter the dining cart I finally see them again. Effie is devoid of the orange wig that she sported when I last saw her. She's wearing pink on her head, the wig she wore during the games, but she's as alive and real as Peeta seems. Haymitch is there too, passed out and slumped against a sleek white chair. Typical Haymitch, but it's better this way. I don't want to deal with him at the moment.

"Wonderful, darlings, you are here. I have been looking all over for you. It's a mess. We're going to be back in District 12 in precisely ten minutes. Here, follow me. Take a mic," she turns to us and adjusts her purple translucent earring before handing each of us a small silver earpiece.

"There will be press at the platform. Remember to smile," she says peppily. I've forgotten in some ways what Effie was like, and hearing her voice, a voice that at one time annoyed me, almost brings tears to my eyes.

Effie grabs both of our hands, her dainty fingers firmly holding mine as she leads us through the different train cars. Never breaking her bright shiny smile.

As we walk, I look behind Effie's hair and smile back at Peeta and give him a secretive smile and a roll of my eyes. I still feel the urge to pounce on him, but luckily it's lessened by Effie's presence. I don't think she would exactly approve of me pushing him against the train hallway and kissing him. So instead, I just grit my teeth and bite down on my cheek. I should probably take advantage of every minute I have with Peeta, but upsetting Effie, even dream Effie, doesn't sound pleasant.

Effie loosens her grip and allows a capitol attendant to open the door when we reach the middle car that I vaguely remember using the first time around.

"Up you go," she says motioning towards the steps that I quickly run up, earning a look of disapproval as Peeta slowly navigates them, his leg inhibiting him from going any faster. I slip my hand into his, giving him a bright happy smile that hopefully screams _I love you, I never want to leave you_. For all I know, I probably look constipated. I'm not very good with these things. It must say something right, though, because I'm awarded with a childish grin that spreads across his face like a spark on dry wood.

The bleak purple wallpaper seems to disappear from my line of vision as he brushes my hair from my face and places his other hand on the small of my back, the heat from his fingers finding me through the thin fabric of my dress.

The doors slide open, and yet again I meet the cameras and my district.

**Author's Note - I know this is a bit short, but I had to cut it off here for the sake of the story. I didn't want to reveal District 12/Gale/Her Family/etc. right now as I want to expand on that in the next chapter if that makes any sense.**

**I'm sorry posting this chapter took such a long time. I have been focusing on By Your Hand I Have Loved at the moment. Also, I'm on vacation at the moment:)**

**If you have any constructive criticism, feel free to give it! What do you think of the story? I'm very interested in your opinion.**

**You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety. Feel free to ask me anything on there. I will be sure to answer!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: As always, nothing in the Hunger Games universe is my property. Don't sue me.**

He smiles at me, quickly moving to put another dish on the stove.

"You don't have to say that, you know."

"It's true. Look at us. When have you ever wronged me… or wronged anyone without a decent reason?"

He sighs and leans against the counter, "I'm a victor, Katniss. Far from innocent, but the sentiment is nice."

His blue eyes peer into mine, the counter separating us. I get that feeling again, the undeniable need to just kiss him or squeeze him, to let him know that I love him. So I push myself off the leather bar stool and wrap my arms around his neck, quickly before he can even notice, and I capture his lips with mine causing him to drop his wooden ladle on the ground.

"Turn off the stove," I say as we break for air, allowing him to push me up against the kitchen table.

"What?" He says to me before slipping his tongue into my mouth and wrapping his arms around the curve of my waist.

"Turn off the stove!" I repeat.

This time he stops, "Why?"

"Well," I say, "I don't intend on stopping this anytime soon and well, you don't want to burn down your brand new house…"

He leans back and cuts the switch off quickly before returning to me, knotting his hands through my hair and kissing me.

We remain that way for what seems like hours, the two of us pressed against the wall with our lips intertwined, one of my legs wrapped around his body.

It's the perfect chance to move forward, to further my mission of ensuring his happiness, so I pull away for a second and speak up to him, "You know, if it's something you want, we could go upstairs," I mutter, my face flushing at the implications.

"It's getting late, your mother…"

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right." I say, pushing myself off of the counter and landing on the floor, awkwardness flooding the room at his shut down.

He runs his hands against my arm and looks into my eyes, "You don't have to go," he says softly.

"No, I probably should. I'll eat with my mother," the words cut into the air as I slip my bag over my shoulder and pull away from him. "Goodbye," I say, slipping out of the door.

That was certainly not how I intended on this day going, and the fact that he turned down my offer still stings.

* * *

The lights are still not on in my house. When I open the door, from the lack of noise and the darkness, it's quite obvious that nobody else is home. There is a note on the oak table in the kitchen. It's from my mother, saying that Prim and her will not be home until the morning, confirming my previous suspicions. There was no point in leaving Peeta, no excuses, we could have stayed together.

Having nothing else to do, I trudge up the stairs and stay in my room for the rest of the day. I end up writing in some additions to the plant book, which is in the state that it was previous to the first game. At least this time, I already know what to put in there. But it's a bit odd, doing the same thing twice, and it brings up thoughts about how on earth any of this actually happened. Maybe I was shot or hurt. Maybe I'm in some sort of coma and I've entered a dream world.

Maybe I'm dead.

It's a possibility, I suppose. That I've died and entered some sort of purgatory where I can relive my experiences. Or even heaven, where I get a second chance to make up for my mistakes. I don't feel dead though, and I don't think I could have died in my sleep. I'm not entirely sure if it's a dream, it seems far too real, but what else could this be? Perhaps I've gone crazy or mental and this isn't even real, some sort of brain tumor or trauma from the Quell?

It doesn't matter, I'm stuck here indefinitely. I better make the best of it while I have the opportunity.

* * *

That night, I sit up in bed, unable to sleep. I'm all alone, and not just in my bed this night. Prim and mother aren't even in the house. It's unnerving, the feeling of being completely alone in a large, empty house while my terrors plague me. Peeta's a few yards from you, you could go over there, the thought invades my mind.

Peeta made it clear that he wasn't interested in me spending any time in his bed, completely innocent or anything more. Although, maybe, just maybe, he was nervous or something. I forget that this is just sixteen-year-old Peeta sometimes. Not the one who knows that we have a target on our backs, not the one who has lived through the quell, not the one who has previously shared my bed and night terrors. No, this is hopelessly delirious in love, sweet, innocent Peeta Mellark. The blond haired, blue eyed baker's son who wants nothing more than to make me happy.

Not entirely innocent, though. Even this Peeta shares the nightmares. Peeta does this every night, he doesn't even have a family to share his house with.

We could help each other.

* * *

I resolve to go over to his house, slipping a coat over my thin pink nightgown, a gift from Cinna, and I walk to Peeta's house.

I pound on his door, this time not bothering to just knock. The noise is probably waking up Haymitch from a drunken slumber, but I could care less.

Peeta answers the door quickly. He's clothed in only loose dark plaid flannel pants that hang dangerously low on his hips. His ruffled blonde hair is pulled back against his crown.

"Oh, Katniss, Hi," he says, raising his eyebrows at my disheveled appearance.

"I couldn't sleep," I say, biting my lip and looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, come inside," he says motioning me indoors, "Let me just throw on a shirt." He closes the door behind us and quickly picks up a short sleeved black top from the kitchen table, his muscles flexing as he pulls it over his head.

* * *

"So," he says as we sit down on his sofa, "you couldn't sleep."

"I get nightmares," I say, closing my coat a little tighter against my body, the thin nightgown making my nearly bare appearance uncomfortable.

"You d- I mean, so do I," he says, gulping a little bit as he takes in my appearance.

"I was wondering if I could stay here tonight."

"Stay here?" he says, his voice a little shaky with what appears to be confusion.

"Yes, I thought it might help. We only have each other, but we're lucky in that regard. I thought it could help, you know, if we weren't alone. I can imagine it can be lonely, and my mother isn't home. She wouldn't notice or care anyways. But if you don't want to, I can understand. I'm sorry, this was stupid, I'll just lea-," I say, starting to stand up.

"No." He says, placing his hand on my thigh and stopping me, "It might help. I'll make some tea and then we can go to bed."

* * *

Peeta rinses the mugs from our tea in the sink, gently wiping them off with a towel and placing them on the drying rack. I lean against the opposing counter and peer over at him.

"Want to go upstairs now?" I say, a bit awkwardly.

"Sure," he says and we just stand there for a moment, both of us unsure of how to continue.

"Come on, then," I say, and we both climb up the stairs and I pull him into his room.

* * *

Peeta's room is simple and fairly unchanged from the state he probably received it in. Dark heavy wooden furniture fills the room, a large four post bed in the center. The walls are a plain white that matches the moldings, the color of snow only broken by two large paintings; one above the bed and the other above the dresser. They must be his, I can tell by the style that it is surely Peeta's. They are happy pleasant pictures. Bright yellow sunflowers looming over grass above his headboard, and a simple watercolor of the sunset over the dresser.

"Well, this is it," Peeta says, breaking my train of thought, "May I take your coat?"

I'm still wearing the coat, and it's really the only thing concealing my body, but there is no way to really explain that, so I allow him to take the sleeve and slip it off me.

He places it on a nearby hook, his eyes never leaving my body, and he takes my hand and brings me to the bed. I'm not wearing much, only a thin nightgown and fuzzy socks. My shoes long abandoned in the living room.

"You can touch me if you want," I say as we both lie on the bed, separated by a foot or so.

"What?" He says with an almost alarmed tone.

"I can tell you've noticed, my um, state," I say, turning to him, "You can touch me if you want. It's not much, but I wouldn't mind if you did."

It's all wrong and awkward the way I bring it up, but what else could I say?

"I don't want you to think we have to do anything because of this arrangement..." he starts.

"It's not because of that," I say, pulling my body closer to his so that I am nestled next to him, "I want you to, unless, of course, you don't want to."

He laughs, "Of course I do, Katniss, but I think if we start that I'll never be able to stop, and we both need sleep."

"Fine." I say, scowling at his rejection and pulling my body away from his.

"I didn't mean to-" he starts.

"Don't, it's fine," I reply, pulling the dark covers of the feathered quilt over my shoulders and facing the other direction.

* * *

We both lay down in the bed for a while, our bodies slightly distanced as we both face opposite directions. Our breathing is uneven and tense, the inhales and exhales accounting for the only noise in the room.

"Hold me," I say, breaking the uneasy silence and allowing him to come closer and slip his arm around my waist. It's a comforting crushing feeling. As the night progresses we find ourselves wrapped around each other, legs entangled as we both grow tired.

"You know, Katniss..." Peeta speaks up.

"Yes," I respond with a sigh as my eyelids burn with the lack of sleep that I have experienced over the last few days.

"This is nice, being with you. I never imagined that I would ever have this possibility, but here you are. In my bed..." he pauses at the implications of his words. "It's everything I've ever wanted and I just wanted to let you know that you have given me everything I could possibly want and," his voice flutters a bit, "I meant what I said, I love you."

I shift my body in his direction, pulling my legs out from underneath his and I press my face against his, balling my hands against his touch, "I love you too, Peeta. Don't you ever forget that, but go to sleep."

He smiles at me, and it's not one of the sad weary smiles that I've seen before or one of the fake smiles we both sported in the Capitol. No, this one is genuine and full of childish delight.

"One kiss?" he questions, pushing his hand against the thin silky material of my nightgown.

"Okay, one kiss. That is all," I say, pulling him closer to me and pressing my lips on his.

* * *

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn't realize until now how starved I've been for human closeness, for the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn't wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight is streaming through the windows.

"No nightmares," he asks.

"No nightmares," I confirm. "You?"

"None. I'd forgotten what a real night's sleep feels like," he says.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, what do you think? Finally we got some Everlark interaction. What are your hopes for the next chapter? Any constructive criticism is welcome.**

**I would like to thank my beta, eatsnightlockforbreakfast, because without her 90% of this would not be legible.**

**As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters/places in the Hunger Games universe. This is purely fanfiction for the enjoyment of the fans. It is not intended to harm anybody, so don't sue me.**

When the doors open and Peeta and I step onto the train platform, the deafening sound of the press greets us with a chaotic rhythm of flashes and questions.

"Katniss, how did you feel when…"

"Peeta, what did you think when you heard…"

"What will you do with your lives now?"

But I ignore their questions, although I give bright smiles for the cameras, just in case this will have some sort of effect on my life. It is second nature by now, the second a camera comes out I find myself flung across Peeta's chest with a bright smile.

The weeks between the games and when the cameras had left had been very hard. I'm not exactly excited about reliving them, that is, of course, under the condition that when I wake up tomorrow I remain in this world.

What if I don't?

What if I only get one day here? What if I only have a few hours left with this Peeta?

The thought brings a terrified flutter to my heart. Peeta must notice, because he tightens his grip on my hand and leans over to my ear, his hot breath tickling the hairs on the back of my head as he speaks.

"Look over there," he nods towards a gated section at the bottom of the platform, "See, those two blonde heads, right there? We're home, Katniss. We're finally home."

It's only this that makes me want to break free from Peeta, for the first time today.

Prim.

And not just any Prim, not the one I know back in District 13. Not the girl who spends her days in the hospital, caring for the sick in an underground district.

No, this girl standing with my mother, the girl with two long french braids and a loose blue blouse lazily tucked into a matching skirt, this girl is not the Prim I know now. She's the twelve year old Prim, simple and innocent. She has yet to experience the hardships of seeing her sister go into the games for another round. She has yet to see her district and it's people burn to a crisp.

She's sweet and childish, and I've missed her. It's this that breaks my resolve, and I fling myself from the warm comfort of Peeta's body, running down the stairs in a manner that would not be approved of by Effie.

"Prim! Prim," I say as I swing back the gate and crush her into my arms. She smiles back at me, looking into my eyes with pure happiness.

"You came home," she says, breaking our hug and nervously dangling her hands by her side. I take note only then at the hulking figure behind her and my mother's shaky voice.

"Katniss, your cousins are here to see you," she says with the same forced smile that I remember from the first time around.

Of course, this time it isn't needed. I know that I'm supposed to refer to the Hawthorne family as my cousins, but I give her a reassuring nod to let her know that I understand her clearly.

A voice breaks through my exchange with my mother, like a young fawn clumsily running through freshly fallen snow. The voice, one I know better than my own, cuts through the air with a thick heavy tone.

"Hey, Catnip," his eyes water, "You're home." Large arms crush me into a strong body, the smell of pine and old cotton reaches my nose in a familiar scent.

Gale.

My Gale. He hadn't been in my thoughts that much. I hadn't even considered what it would be like to be around him. We spend so much time together in thirteen that I hadn't worried about it.

It's odd, hugging Gale like this. I can tell, even here, he's less angry, less broken. Hurt, still hurt, but he's different.

I remove him from my arms, and gaze into his eyes. His grey eyes look into mine with that needy, love struck expression that I have become accustomed to. I've missed him like this. It will be nice, if this lasts, to do it all over again with the friend I had lost to heartbreak and the pain of war.

"Well say hello to your other cousins too! Posy isn't here, though, she came down with something and mother is staying with her."

"Katniss," a breath hangs over my neck as I break away from Gale, once again giving Prim a small hug.

It's Peeta, he looks a little bit disheveled, maybe his brothers messed with his hair? I take a glance towards his family, I can see the two blonde brothers standing awkwardly near his parents. He's home, why would they allow him to leave?

"Hey, Peeta," I say, taking his hand and running my gaze towards the ground. It's always been odd to be near both of these men in a confined space.

He glances at my mother with a nervous sideways smile, and a cameraman giggles at the exchange, taking a quick photo.

"Effie needs us to take some more photos, they have enough of the reunions. We're needed over there," he runs his hands through his golden locks, "I'm sorry. We have to go," he says, allowing me to give quick hugs to my family and to answer some questions before leading me towards to where Effie stands in the center of the square.

* * *

I spend that night tucked away in the same exact same home that I resided in the first time. It's all the same. The room, the bed, and even the pot of flowers that Effie leaves on my dresser is identical to the first time I lived this life.

That night, I do not sleep. I only stare at the ceiling, making maps with the swirls of the stucco and wondering if I should sneak into Peeta's house and take advantage of his presence. The thoughts of waking up tomorrow in District 13, coupled with the established horrors of the two games I have experienced, or the one I have experienced and the one that is yet to come, haunt me well into the morning.

But it doesn't happen. When I wake up the next morning I find myself exactly where I went to bed.

* * *

Peeta and I spend the next few days preoccupied by the press. Each morning I've woken is started with a desperate search for the sun. For the one sign that I am not back in the harsh and gray underground district. For a sign that the blonde haired, blue eyed baker no longer wishes to rip my heart out.

And every day that I spend, the signs are there. The genuine flashes of bright childish joy in his eyes, the smiles he flashes at me when we get a second alone, innocently unaware of the inferno that we have created. It's those moments that fill me with wonder at the ability I now have to spend time with Peeta's true form. When we were fighting for our lives, bickering over hurt feelings, when I was starving myself from his love, I forgot that Peeta was just an innocent man, a boy really, who would give his life up for mine, who would do the right thing no matter the cost. He was by far the most honorable person I had ever known, and I had deprived him of the one thing he wanted in this world.

Me.

* * *

The cameras start to leave one by one. After the first few days, the number of reporters and obligations dwindle down, but still remain constant. Near the end, the press significantly thins out and the day that Effie, and the few remaining reporters, take the train back to Capitol unofficially signifies the end of the drowning frenzy.

I have to admit, I had not enjoyed reliving it the second time.

That first morning is a Sunday, one spent in the depth of the woods with Gale. There is no talk of kissing, or thankfully, Peeta, but it's hard for me to remember that we haven't already had certain conversations. And I find myself monitoring my words in a place where I had never felt the need.

Although, at least this time I know that I am being watched.

* * *

The dirt moves under my feet, blowing through the wind with every kick of my boots as I cast my glance downward, avoiding the stares of my neighbors and friends as I walk past the Seam and into Victor's Village.

The lights in my own house are off. Even though we have somewhat stable electricity, and the cost is no longer an issue, my mother always turns out the lights when she leaves. She must have gone to the Ellet house to help with their toddler, who she mentioned came down with some sort of flu.

Haymitch's house is running a light upstairs, from what I can see from the street, but it's quiet and the freshly broken bottles on the porch tell me he must have fallen asleep drinking. Probably will not be up for a while…

Peeta's lights are, like always, on. It's hard to tell if he's awake or not because he is always running lights upstairs and downstairs. Doesn't like the dark, I guess. I never asked, even when he did it the first time around. With his family gone and the nightmares taking hold, going home to an empty dark house can't be pleasant.

I don't really have anything else to do, and I've been meaning to set some time aside to see him. So, since there is no good reason why I shouldn't see if he is home, I slinker up his porch, hands in pockets, and I knock on the door.

Knock! Knock! Knock! The sound of my fist hitting the solid wooden door radiates through Victor's Village.

Nobody answers.

I pound on the door once again, this time calling to Peeta as I bang against the wood. Just as I am turning away to leave, assuming he's at the bakery or with friends, I hear the familiar clumping that his legs make as they clomp down the stairs.

When he opens the door his face breaks into a grin. His hair is disheveled, and the deep circles under his eyes make it obvious that he didn't get a lot of good sleep last night. The same dark circles are apparent on my own face with a lack of makeup, the purple hue signifying the terrors of the night.

"Hey, Katniss," he says, allowing me to step into his house, "So, what's with all the banging?"

* * *

Peeta invites me into his home, and leads me to a barstool. Across from me Peeta shuffles through the kitchen.

"What would you like to eat, Katniss? Is there anything specific I could make?"

I run my fingers through my braid, "Oh, nothing," I say, although in truth I am a bit hungry.

"You sure? I thought, since it's lunchtime that we could have some sandwiches, maybe some soup. How does turkey and some cheddar potato soup sound?"

Cheddar potato soup. It was one of my favorites, Peeta has made it a handful of times before, although, this Peeta doesn't know that.

"Yeah, that sounds great," I say, doing a half spin in the chair.

He pulls out a pot and turns on the stove, "You know, if there's anything else you want, anything at all, I could try to see if I could make it. Here, try some of the sauce" he hands me a tiny blue porcelain bowl filled with some sort of topping before running his hands nervously through his blonde locks.

I smile at him, "I think we both know that anything you make will be fine, or at least, better than anything I could make myself," I say, dipping my index finger into the dish and tasting the rich sauce. It's fairly spicy, and the heat from whatever it contains rises from my tongue, a sweet aftertaste filling my mouth.

"What is it?" I ask him, licking my finger clean.

"It's a mixture of a few different things. With all of the new supplies from the Capitol, I was just experimenting with some different things," he looks at me and bites his lower lip, "Did you like it?"

"It's good," I say, moving on to taste another dish that he hands me, something chocolatey in a liquid form, "Everything you do is good."

**Author's Note: I realize this is pretty short, I had so many goals for 4,000 words per chapter, and I know I'm making excuses, but I had exams and it was just very hectic. However, I got a decent amount of words in. I'm also in a rut with _By Your Hand I Have Loved_ , so if anybody wants to volunteer to help me write smut... I'm having a hard time portraying the "new experience" viewpoint and it's just all awkward and wrong. Ugh. PM me or message me on tumblr.**

**Other than that, you can follow me at starveindafety on tumblr. And as always, I would like to thank my wonderful beta, eatsnightlockforbreakfast, for helping out with this story:)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Hunger Games Trilogy. All characters and places belong to their respective owners.**

* * *

 "So, would you like me to make you breakfast or something? I'm famous for my crepes, it would be insulting if you didn't comply?" Peeta asks me in a mock serious voice.

I roll my eyes and match his tone, "Well, Mr. Mellark, I wouldn't want to insult my favorite baker, now would I?" I say pulling him into a kiss.

* * *

It's not awkward like I expected this morning to be. Peeta ends up cooking crepes, which I discover are a lighter version of the pancakes they served in the capital. He was right about them being good. I can't imagine that anybody could have the ability to make them any better. From what I have learned outside of this dream world Peeta seems to be the best baker in his family. The quality of the specialty breads really went down after Peeta stopped working there full time.

"So," I say as I fill my mouth with a bite of cream covered crepes laced with the sharp flavor of cranberry sauce, "Are you going to be working at the bakery a lot? Or are you planning on being my personal chef?"

It's a question I already know the answer to of course. The first time around I was pretty aware of Peeta's schedule. It's hard to avoid somebody if you don't know when they are showing up to work.

"Well," he says, pausing for a moment to think, "My mother wants the free help, but I have decided to focus on what I want to do. Maybe I will stop by and do some cakes, but that will be because I enjoy them and not because she wants me to."

I bite my lip to hide my surprise. It's the first major thing to change in this world. I suppose the impact of my true relationship with Peeta is altering this world. Up to know everything aside from conversations had remained practically the same. Same questions from the press, same living room furniture, and even the exact same dresses had filled my life. It was really unusual (and almost scary) to think that this world had the ability to shape around what I did. But I shut off those thoughts, because the ability to change left the possibility that this world was more of a reality than a dream.

"That sounds like fun. I think it is so interesting how you make all of those things with icing. I've always wanted to see how you do it," I say, hoping he catches the hint.

He grins and slides his hand across the counter to meet mine, "Actually I was thinking that I could be your instructor of sorts. Maybe I could show you how to make some basic breads and cakes. Maybe we could even get to icing. Tonight at six maybe?"

It's the perfect bonding experience for the two of us. A good enough way to do something slightly normal, at the very least.

"Alright, but you should know that I'm absolutely hopeless when it comes to cooking and that sort of thing."

He laughs, "I didn't think your cooking was all that bad in the arena."

Stupid stupid Peeta. Why does he have to mention that place when we are having a perfectly fun moment? But in order not to ruin the moment I don't let my darkening mood show.

"I don't think that soup of sorts was exactly a work of culinary genius, but you were far too out of it to make note of my cooking. You know, Prim says that everything I make tastes like burnt peas. I'm not very good at keeping a house in case you haven't noticed," I roll my eyes at him.

"We will have to fix that then. Along with baking I could teach you how to cook if you would like that?" he questions me.

I grin and quickly lean across the counter to give him a chaste kiss, "There is no point in teaching me how to cook, no matter what I will never be any good. I guess it is better that you are the cook in this duo, this way when we live together we will never have to worry about those things."

"When we live together?" his breath hitches at the implications.

"That is, of course, if you plan on keeping me," I give him a soft smile.

He chuckles, "I think we both know I don't have the power to leave you."

* * *

My mother doesn't notice that I was missing all night. She doesn't arrive with Prim until two hours after I get home.

She doesn't last long either. It is only four when she gets called off with Prim to help with a former neighbor, Mrs. Hannigan, with her broken leg.

Mrs. Hannigan has three young children and a husband who barely gets a day off from the mines. It isn't rocket science as to why she's on the top of my mother's priorities. With that many people in a house, somebody has to run it. Besides, Mrs. Hannigan supplements her income by washing houses. She can't do that if she's out for so long. I make a mental note to leave her some money when I get a chance.

* * *

"Well, first you have to take all dry items and mix them together," Peeta says. He's pressed behind me, guiding my hands as we organize the ingredients for the chocolate cake we decided to make.

"Dry ingredients?" I ask, a little perplexed at the notion of dry items. I've never really baked before. Other than the tesserae bread we never had the money to buy the ingredients to make our own cakes or buns.

"Like the flour and sugar," Peeta explains. Following his instructions I pour the powdered chocolate, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, salt, and flour into the powl. I allow him to wrap his hands around mine and guide me as I mix.

I never knew there were this many ingredients to a simple cake. I knew there would have to be flavoring, flour, and sugar, but salt? Why on earth would anybody put salt in cake. And what exactly is baking soda?

"There! All done. Now you have to put the wet ingredients in," Peeta says as he reaches over and gives me a quick flour laced kiss.

I cock my head a bit and look at him perplexed.

"Everything else on the list except for the water," he explains. We mix in the eggs, milk, oil, and vanilla extract.

"Is it done?" I say dipping my finger into the light chocolate mixture. My mouth floods with the taste of the creamy chocolate concoction.

"No, you have to mix it," Peeta answers in a relaxed tone.

"With the spoon? Would you like to do that?" I frown at all of the powder in the bowl. From my experience with bread I know that flour doesn't mix easily.

He laughs, "Now don't try to quit on me when we get to the boring part. I have a mixer now, it works on electricity." He says as he unwraps his body from mine and shuffles through the top counters.

We have the exact same kitchen with the exact same colors. At least the other rooms in my house look a little different from Haymitch's and Peeta's, but the kitchens are all identical. They were updated a few years ago when different stones became more popular. It is a shame that nobody else will get to use the other nine homes.

"Ah! Here it is." Peeta says pulling a red appliance of sorts with a thing on top of a bowl. I stare at the thing for a moment while he sets it up. I'm not exactly sure what to do with it.

"You put the mixture in the bowl and it works fully automatic. The only thing we have to do is pour the water in while it mixes. You can do that if you would like."

He resumes his position behind me and steadies my arms while I pour the chocolate batter into the silver bowl of the mixer.

When Peeta presses the buttons the machine spurs to life and starts spinning. It throw me off a bit and I jump backwards, startled at the sudden action. I have been a bit skittish since I got transported to dream world and the machine almosts looks like a beast coming to life. I certainly don't need any more strange things in my life.

"Did they have these at the bakery?" I ask Peeta as I pour in the boiling water.

"They did, but they weren't like this. They were big and ugly things. You could lose a hand in them if you touched them. It was pretty awful, we only used them on the everyday bread batches. Everything else was mixed by hand."

I can't imagine mixing batches ten times this by hand. It must be comparable to churning butter. I remember how my hands used to ache after making butter from Prim's goat's milk. I couldn't go hunting for a few days after all of that churning, even when Prim and I took turns.

After about two minutes we remove the batter from the machine. When I test taste the batter I notice that it is a lot thinner after we put the water in it. I don't know much about baking but I can't imagine that this could come out as actual food.

"Wow, the water really made it this thin. Is it going to turn out alright?" I question Peeta suspiciously.

He chuckles, "Trust me, it will come out perfect. I have made this recipe a million times. It is supposed to turn out like that."

"It better be perfect. I want some reward for all of this work," I tell him in a joking tone.

He pours the batter into a pan and slips it into the waiting oven before guiding me into the living room for a cup of tea that he prepped a few minutes before.

"You don't take sugar in your tea," I note. It's something I naturally already know, but I mention it anyways.

"Oh," he wrinkles his forehead, "No, I guess I don't."

"You're already too sweet for that, I guess. You don't need any sugar," I tease him and pinch one of his cheeks like a grandmother would.

He rubs his cheek and blushes, "I guess I don't. I was never really fond of sugar in tea. It dilutes the flavor. Of course you must not agree," he says motioning towards the tea cup that holds several spoonfuls of sugar.

I grin, "I need any sweetness I can get."

Without warning he pushes his body sidewards on the love seat and pulls me into a deep kiss. It's a deep needy kiss, nothing like the chaste kisses we have shared recently. No, this kiss is full of the hunger and passion I felt on the beach.

He shifts our bodies downward so that I am lying on my back against the soft cushions of the sofa, "So," he says as we pull up for air, "Do you think you could maybe spend the night?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, I had this written up ages ago. Anyways, I'm in the airport as I post this, I'm going to be offline for a while (family medical issues) so I'm sending this unedited.**

**As always you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All names, characters, and places belong to their respective owners. I know I haven't updated this story in like a year, but bear with me. Also, yay! Sexy times! Have fun and enjoy!**

* * *

'Peeta' leads me up the stairs, our hands laced inside the others. We exchange occasional glances, our soft, awkward smiles saying everything for us. Though I'm sure it can't be long, it feels like an eternity before we reach the second floor, my mouth hitting his and pressing him against the door to his bedroom.

We don't exchange words, we just end up in a flurry of kisses as he pushes me onto the top of his desk, one hand against the wall, the other wrapped around his waist. He's like an innocent child, so much younger, so bashful in his movements. He'd been through the games, sure, but he thought it was over- that he was in possession of everything he wanted. Me. Safety. He hasn't been hardened by my treachery, or by having his family's heads held against him. I wonder what it would be like, if I had played this out the first time. If I too had been so innocent, if we had experienced all of this together.

"Katniss?" Peeta questions, his voice wavering slightly, a mixture of sheer delight and childish hesitation bouncing off his lips, "Can I touch you."

I nod, slipping his hands to my chest. His touches are curious, attentive. And I know it makes him so happy, how could I ever deny him of what he wants?

"I wondered about this," he says to me, his voice hushed as he presses his body against mine. "I'm sorry, that's creepy."

I press my head into his shoulder and kiss his collarbone. "No," I say. "It's not."

Because this is what I love about Peeta, his wanting me. His genuine goodness, the way that no matter what he always wanted me. How cruel is it to think of the Peeta back home, the one who sees the real me and wants not to kiss me but to kill me.

The thought reminds me of something Cinna had said to me before the first games. " _They're either going to want to kiss you or kill you."_ Oh, how the tables had changed.

I shake my head. There is no point in thinking about what the Peeta back home thinks of me, because here, right now, I have my own Peeta, one that I can give everything to.

My second chance.

I look up at the blue eyed boy that is completely and utterly enthralled in my body and smile. "Hey," I say, pressing my hands to the edge of his waistband. He has hardened against me, I can feel it, and there's something so precious about knowing that he desires me even in this sense.

"Hey," he says back to me. He's adorably awkward, everything about him looks so young and untainted under the light of his bedroom.

I lean in to kiss him again, pushing my hands from his side to the hem of my own shirt and slipping the piece of fabric over my head. He barely even notices it at first, still captured in the kiss, but when we pull away from the heat of it his eyes light up with adoration.

"Can I?" he says, eyes wide.

I nod, guiding his fingers to the straps of my bra and not hesitating when the piece slips to the ground. This should be more awkward, I think, my sitting propped up on his desk half naked. But it isn't, it can't be when he looks at me like he does now, as if he has been given something so precious.

"I love you," he repeats like a mantra as his hands run over the tops of my breasts. "Oh god, I love you."

I laugh and place a small kiss on the side of his neck. "Well," I say, "I'm glad they impress you so much."

I take his hands and slide off the corner of the desk. My fingers latch onto his collar and I don't even think before pulling him onto the bed in a collapse of kisses.

"You can do whatever you want to me," I tell him as we roll around under the covers. "I won't mind."

"I want to do what you want," he blinks at me, a little bashful.

At that I reach for the button on my pants and slip them underneath me. He lies on top of me, so the removal of my trousers has the added benefit of my hands brushing against his groin as I kick the piece of clothing under the covers.

"Katniss," Peeta smooths away the hair from my face. His hair is longer now than it was, and strands of his blonde curls touch my face as he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I say, reaching for a kiss and doing the only thing I can think of, sticking my hands down the front of his pants.

He wriggles in surprise, his mouth widening in shock as my fingers press against him. I hadn't really thought what to do past this point, so we stay there in that awkward moment for a few seconds before I make a move, wrapping my hands around him. That's what you're supposed to do, _right?_

He groans at my touch. It's different than I expect, his _thing._ Warmer and firmer than I imagined it to be. Not that I took a habit of imagining what Peeta Mellark's…looked like.

"I can use my mouth," I say as I pop it out from his pants. "That's supposed to be better."

"This is good," he chokes against me, eyes screwed shut.

"Can you lie down on the bed," I ask, my voice a cracked whisper. "So that I can lie on top of you? It's a little uncomfortable…"

"Uh, sure," he says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. He pulls himself out from over me and falls down into the sheets.

I move over to his body, a little unsure of what to do. Spitting on my palm, I take a look at the thing. It looks...normal, maybe a little bigger than I would have thought.

"What?" Peeta asks, raising his head from the pillow. His voice is laced with hesitation and maybe even a little bit of nervousness.

"It's nothing," I say, looking up at me. "It's just, I've never seen one so close."

"Really?" he says shakily. "I thought you might be more experienced."

I raise an eyebrow at that. "No," I tell him. "Just this. Just you."

He seems to like that, a smile creeping over his face before I reach for him again. I try to do what feels natural, wrap my fingers around it and run my hand up and down.

"You can…" he starts, but then stops.

"What?" I ask, slowing my grip on him.

"Nothing," he says, looking down at me. "It's just, you can be a little firmer. It won't break."

"Oh," I say, tightening my hand around him. "Like that?"

"Yeah," he replies, voice breathy. "Just like that."

As his eyes screw shut again I move over his body, straddling his knees with my thighs. Leaning over the thing in a moment of experimentation, I flick my tongue across the tip.

Peeta nearly buckles up off the bed, his body shooting straight up, eyes wide.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, a little embarrassed by my actions.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It was - I liked it."

"Okay," I say dumbly, leaning forward to repeat the action but this time taking the tip into my mouth. Peeta leans back into the covers once more, his body clenching at the new sensation. It's a little harder than I expect to take him in my mouth and not scrape the sensitive parts with my teeth, but I gradually manage to take a little more of him until he is halfway in my mouth. It isn't long before he warns me of his completion.

"I think I'm going to…" he starts, pulling away from me. I remove my mouth from him, tugging at him a bit with my fingers before he finishes into the sheets.

"Thanks," he says with a half smile as I pull back upwards onto the bed. "Uh, you want me to return the favor?"

* * *

**Author's Note: I finally updated this story, after like forever. Hopefully you guys are still wanting more of this universe because I plan on finishing the story and have the next chapter half-way written up.**

**Anyways, yes, the sex was awkward. I felt like it had to be that way because of the inexperience and adolescence of it all. Not to mention Katniss's motivations and Peeta's reservations. Let me know if you enjoyed and want me to continue.**

**As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety and everlarkfanfictionclub.**


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